


The Care and Feeding of a Feral Mutant

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Category: Angel: the Series, X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Don’t copy to another site, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 16:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: Spike finds a young mutant on the streets, and takes her in.





	The Care and Feeding of a Feral Mutant

Emily crouched behind the dumpster, one arm wrapped tightly around the stuffed bear that was her only relic of the home she'd had until recently. Until someone had killed her teacher, killed Koda, killed her teacher's daughter. They'd tried to kill her, but she'd woken up after they'd gone, and run. She couldn't stay there, the den wasn't safe any more.

She watched the street for a moment longer, making sure it was safe before she crept out, sniffing the air cautiously. They'd just dumped another load of scrapings from the kitchen of the restaurant, and if she hurried, they wouldn't have a chance to get dirtied by the trash. And there wasn't anyone else around, not close enough for her to smell.

Spike was beyond annoyed. He'd passed that about four hours ago, when the so-called professional he'd hired to torture Angel into giving up the Gem of Amara had double-crossed him and left him standing in an empty shed with only the memory of Angel's screams to keep him company. The addition of three or four bottles of vodka had done little to improve his temper, and he'd been wandering around the worst parts of LA since darkness fell, hoping to run into a fight that would be nasty enough to match his mood.

Draining the last of the fourth bottle, he threw the empty against the wall and followed it up with a few choice curses.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, Emily hissed, dropping her bear to the street as she scrambled to get away. Someone said something, but she didn't register what it was, as the hand had tightened, keeping her from getting away, and she yowled in anger and fear, reaching up to claw at the hand that held her.

The yell of pain from the person who held her made her try to wrench away again, diving toward her bear, and screaming again when she was brought up short by someone else getting in her way. She fought with claws and fangs, her world narrowing to getting away by whatever means possible. Never even noticing when someone else joined the fray.

Heh. There were three idiot fledges around the next corner, all of them focused on something small in the center of the circle of their bodies. One of the street kids that infested the city, more than likely. They weren't as numerous as they'd been in the London of his mortal years, but there were enough of them to be easy pickings for any vamp without the self-respect to look for a tougher meal.

He rounded the corner in two long steps, snatching up the ringleader by the collar and flinging him as hard as he could into the furthest wall. That left two for the moment; more than sufficient, with four or five bottles of vodka in his system. Well. Until one of the idiots turned to the other and hissed, 'It's Angel!', anyway. The rush of fury that went through him at those words did for two and three, and he turned back to the first one, grinning. The fledgling -- and Spike, arrogant in his hundred-odd years, tended to think that anyone under the age of fifty was an infant, despite what he himself had accomplished at that age -- straightened, putting a hand to his head. Catching sight of Spike brought him back into the game, though, and the two of them met in a tangle of snarling violence that came to an abrupt end when Spike got both hands around the fledge's head and _pulled_. The resultant cloud of dust was decidedly satisfying.

He'd almost forgotten about whatever the three stooges had been kicking around; would have gone on and left the body in the street if he hadn't caught a whiff of it. Human -- and _not_-human, all at the same time. He turned, scarred eyebrow lifting, and was for the first time in nearly forty years, startled.

"Hel-lo -- what's this, then?"

Emily scrambled for her bear, hugging it close as she looked up at the man who'd gotten rid of the ones who were attacking her. Sniffing the air, trying to pinpoint his scent - only to come up with nothing. She hissed, baring pointed fangs at him in warning, not caring if it wasn't what her teacher had tried to teach her. Her hands were fisted to keep from shredding the bear, and she tucked it more firmly under an arm so she could keep one hand free, at least. Whatever he was, he couldn't be human, or he'd have a scent, a real scent. All she could smell was something like the bottles that came from the bar, and cigarette smoke.

The kid definitely wasn't human -- or wasn't quite human. Nothing human had fangs and claws like that. Then again, nothing that was totally inhuman would be clutching a teddy bear. With a movement too fast for the eye to follow, he swooped down on her and picked her up by the upper arms, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Sometimes he got a little careless when he was drunk. She hissed at him, and tried to claw him -- and, more impressively, to bite -- but he shook her a little, and she subsided, glaring at him furiously.

"Do you speak English?" he asked, ready to try any of a dozen other languages if that didn't pan out.

Emily panted with fear and anger, glaring at the man holding her, listening carefully as he spoke, remembering her teacher's admonishments. She scowled at him for a long moment before nodding. "What Teacher thought-spoke. Not human, you, what?"

Spike isn't sure if the alcohol is making it more or less difficult for him to understand the kid's broken English, but after a confused second, he figures out what she's trying to say. 

"No," he answers, smirking. "Not human. Not anymore." He narrows his eyes at her. "Gonna put you down now. If you take off, I will catch you, and I'll most likely be annoyed by the time I do. All right?"

"Don't run, never run. Not prey." She bared her teeth to emphasize her words, though she didn't try to bite him this time. Running hadn't been something she did when faced with something bigger than her. Hiding, yes, crouched where Koda had left her, and waiting for her to come back, but she'd never run. It only invited the other creature to chase, and to kill.

"No?" She was a feisty little thing, that much was certain. He shook his head slightly, slipping into his fangs. He wasn't exactly sure what the idea was that was forming in his mind, but he did want to know whether or not his gameface would send her into a panic. "You sure about that, wolf-cub?"

Emily hissed, baring her teeth again, the bear dropped and forgotten as she did her best to look larger than she was, what human manners she'd learned forgotten as she reacted instinctively. Growling in the face of danger, and trying to bluff the other into backing down first.

It was enough to make Spike laugh and lose focus and, as usual, his fangs slipped away as his concentration did.

"Easy, cub," he told her. "I'm not interested in hurting you." He frowned down at her, trying to figure out what, exactly, he'd stumbled across. "What are you, anyway? You're about as human as I am."

Emily took a long moment to calm down, still watching him warily, picking her bear back up, and hugging it carefully to her chest before she answered him, using the word her teacher had for people like her, and him. "Mutant. What you?"

"Vampire," Spike says, off-handedly. Mutants are certainly making the world a more interesting place -- barring that bugger with the metal claws who'd refused to go down in that cage fight two years earlier, and gotten them both chased out of town for his stubbornness. Spike is definitely going to eat that one if they cross paths again. "D'you have parents? Where's this teacher of yours?"

"No parents." Emily shook her head. "Koda, Teacher, Sister, me. All gone, not me. Hard to kill." She hugged her bear closer, a scowl on her face. She couldn't chase the people who'd killed her family, didn't even know where to start if she could. Surviving had been more important when she healed, and was still more important than revenge, right now. "Not safe at the den, left."

"Humans," Spike says disgustedly. "Can't tolerate anything different." He eyes the kid, trying to decide what he's going to do with her. Without Dru around, he's got no reason to turn her into a snack. She'd fight, of course, but he prefers food that can resist a little more effectively. "What are you doing with yourself, then?"

Emily gave him a puzzled look, confused by the question. "What mean, 'doing with yourself'?" The question wasn't something her teacher had ever posed her, hadn't been something the telepath had been concerned about yet. Basics had been the focus, and only recently had he started working with her on anything more.

"Where are you sleeping, who are you staying with?" Spike clarifies. "For that matter, what do you eat?" People, hopefully. With that thought comes the realization that he's thinking about taking the kid along with him. She's interesting, something that's been sadly missing from his life since Dru decided to go off with that bloody Chaos demon.

"Scraps, still good." Emily pointed the the dumpster, shrugging. "Easy." The other two questions she had to think a moment about what words were right, and replied slowly, "No den, sleep alone. Hide from people, stay near food."

It's the dumpster that makes up Spike's mind for him. The kid's right -- she's not prey -- and the thought of her digging for scraps in a dumpster is bloody offensive.

"Right," he says decisively. "What do you like to eat?"

"Meat." She gave him a look like he was slow. Her teacher had tried to introduce a wider variety of food to her diet, but she had stubbornly clung to the meat-heavy diet that was familiar from her life before she'd been found. "Deer, rabbits. Fish. Green stuff, have to eat, like spring onions." Because they looked a little like the sort of grass Koda liked to eat sometimes.

"Cooked or raw?" It's mostly curiousity that prompts the question, though he does need to know whether he should be raiding the butcher or a steakhouse. He's more than a little tempted to see if she'll eat people.

"Raw." Emily nodded decisively, making a face at the idea of cooked meat. She ate it because she had to, because that was the scraps were, but it didn't mean she liked what she ate. "Cooked icky."

Spike doesn't even try and stop the slow grin he can feel spreading across his face. "Good to know, pet. Good to know." He looks down at her, lifting an eyebrow. "Hungry now?"

Emily nodded again, her expression guardedly hopeful. She hadn't gotten to actually eat before the trio of vampires had attacked her earlier, and the last time she'd eaten before that was the night before. "Very. Better food than scraps?"

"You're bloody well done with scraps, pet," Spike tells her. "What do you want? Steak, pork, chicken?" He grins. "People?"

"Steak, easier. No chase, hunt better later." She gave him a wary look when he mentioned people. "People bad, kill Koda, kill Teacher. Hurt. Hunt later, live now."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to have to hunt at some point," Spike tells her. "Bloody Angelus and his stupid fucking humans. Here." He frowns down at her. "You do know what a vampire is, don't you?" The nearest butcher's is only about five blocks away, and he starts off in that direction, trusting the girl to follow him.

Emily keeps up with him, shrugging at his question. "Smell like city, funny face, teeth. Kill, make dust, no body." All that was just what she'd observed that night. She didn't actually know what a vampire was, not yet.

"It's a start," Spike allows. "I eat people. We all do." He doesn't much feel like getting into a discussion on the difference between draining someone and actually eating them. "You don't have to worry about humans any more." He invests the word with as much scorn as only something that used to be human can.

She looked up at him with a curious expression on her face. "Humans prey? Why?" Not disapproving, just curious. She'd learned from Koda even before Teacher that humans weren't good prey, capable of defending themselves in ways far more dangerous than their usual prey's horns and hooves.

"Because they're the only thing worth eating," Spike says. Sure, a vamp can survive on pig's blood -- Angelus is living proof -- but who would want to? "That's what vampires _do_; we eat people. Well. One of the things we do, anyway."

"Taste good?" She frowned, and then shook her head, dismissing the thought as irrelevent at the moment. "Dangerous. Hurt. Kill later, when stronger."

"Steak it is, then. 'S gotta be an all-night butcher's somewhere around here." Butcher shops weren't exactly on Spike's list of places of note, but this was LA. There had to be at least one.

Emily nodded, though she wasn't entirely certain what a butcher was. She still thought of prey as something to chase down and kill, and steak was something that Teacher brought home from wherever he went when he went out. "What 'butcher'?" she asked after a moment, tilting her head to look up at him.

"Butcher's a bloke who sells raw meat." Rounding the corner brought them in sight of the DeSoto, which, despite being parked in a bad part of town, was untouched. "Like cars, pet?"

"Smell icky." Emily made a face. "Move fast, like that. Not a lot. Just to den, and sneezy-place. Smelled funny." She shrugged. "Take car to butcher?"

"Bloody right," Spike tells her. "I'm certainly not about to walk." He opens the passenger door for her. "Sneezy place?" he asks, mildly curious. "What's that, luv?"

Emily peered into the car a moment, reaching out a hand to pat the seat a moment before climbing in. Setting her bear in her lap, her feet dangling over the edge of the seat. "Teacher said 'doctor's office'. Smelled funny, too bright. Not like."

Spike crosses in front of the car and climbs in, starting it before turning to the girl. "This doctor have a name? An' how many times did you go?" If she's got health problems, he may need to re-think this whole thing. If she's sick, she'll need to stay relatively in one place.

"Once. Scared white-coat." Emily beamed cheerfully, though she knew her Teacher hadn't been particularly happy with the incident. "Don't know name. Long time before. Said fine, no come back."

Spike lets out a snort of laughter. "I'll just bet he did." Putting the DeSoto into gear, he pulls out into the street, narrowly missing an idiot pedestrian. "Keep your eye out for a butcher's, will you?" He pauses, glancing at her. "Where did Teacher live? Here in LA? And what's your name?"

"Teacher called me Emily." She frowned, her brow furrowing. "Den up hill, alone. Lots of dens around, stacked and alone. Hide here, easy food. No prey, no predetor. Just people, easy avoid."

"People are prey, Emily," Spike tells her. "They are for me, anyway, and they will be for you, someday." He runs a red light and turns left, ignoring the blaring of other drivers' horns. "How long have you been on your own?" No butchers in sight. He's beginning to think that finding one might be more difficult than he'd first thought.

Emily's frown deepened as she struggled with quantifying time. It had been something she and her teacher were still working on. "Many days. Don't know. More than fingers." She hadn't yet grasped the importance of weeks or months as ways to tell time, only days and seasons.

"Could you find your way back there?" It might be good to have somewhere to crash -- and chasing down whoever scared her away in the first place might prove interesting.

Nodding, Emily smiled. "From where found. Show. Long walk, all night. After food."

"After food it is," Spike agrees. The idea that swims into his head is so tempting that he can't resist. There's a pay-phone on the corner, and he cuts across two lanes of protesting traffic to pull over next to it.

"Stay here, pet. I'll be right back." He jumps out of the car and crosses to the phone. A quick punch to the coin slot yields a flood of quarters, and he catches a handful as they fall, discarding all but the two he slides into the machine. The phone at the other end rings three times, and then is picked up.

"Angel Investigations."

Emily stays where she is, tilting her head curiously as she watches Spike.

* * *

Angel looks up when Cordelia picks up the phone, listening as she talks. Hoping for a case, though from the angry frown that crosses her face after a moment dashes that. It's only when she tells him to pick up the phone that he begins to think there's something more to it than just not a case.

"Hello?"

"Peaches," Spike says, smirking. "How are you feeling, then?" He ought to be mostly better by now -- unless drinking pig's blood slows his healing processes. "Still suffering the occasional twinge? Thinkin' of me when you do?"

Scowling at the phone, Angel tightens his grip on the handset a moment, before wincing at the faint crack of the plastic under his hand. Consciously relaxing, he tries to keep his voice steady, asking in return, "What do you want, Spike?"

It's tempting to taunt Angel a bit longer, but if the wanker hangs up, he won't get the answer he needs.

"Directions to an all-night butcher in LA," he admits. It's probably a bad idea -- getting directions from Angel means that Angel will know where to find him -- but he doesn't really have many other options. He hasn't bought steak in over a hundred years, save in restaurants.

"What?" Angel closed his eyes, trying to think of what Spike would need an all-night butcher for. Certainly not looking for pig's blood, not unless someone's done something to screw with his head.

"Why do you need all-night butcher?" he finally asked, his voice heavily laced with weary confusion. There are nights when it's just best not to ask, but just track the blond down and find out in person.

"I've reformed. It's strictly pig's blood for me from here on out." Spike rolls his eyes. "I need a couple of steaks, if you must know. I'll give you my word not to eat whoever you send me to." He glances over his shoulder to check on Emily, and finds her watching him intently though one of the clearer patches of windshield. "I'm doin' my good deed for the century."

Resisting the urge to snort derisively, Angel rolled his eyes, already digging around the various paper on his desk, trying to remember who he's been getting his pig's blood recently. "On Mesquit street, there's a butcher there. They're not exactly twenty-four hours, but they're open late enough."

And he wouldn't have any trouble getting to it, hopefully before Spike caused any mayhem. No matter what he said about doing a good deed.

"Good enough." Mesquite isn't far from where Spike is currently -- close enough, hopefully, that he'll be able to get in and out before Angel can arrive like the misguided cavalry he thinks he is. "They any good? I don't want trash."

He waves at Emily, and smiles at her without baring his teeth.

Emily smiled back, her brow furrowing a moment before she waved as well. Not entirely certain of the gesture, but content to mimic Spike. Trusting him already, as much because he didn't treat her as a helpless cub as because he'd rescued her earlier.

"The best markets are already closed for the night, Spike. They're the only decent ones still open." Angel shook his head, already digging the keys to the car out. He didn't know how much time he'd have after he hung up, and he wanted to get out the door immediately.

"They'll have to do, then." He frowns. "Which cut of steak do you think would be easiest to eat raw?"

"Um..." Angel frowned, uncertain of the answer, and not certain he wanted to know why Spike was asking. "Ask the people at the shop."

"Thanks, Peaches. Too bad you couldn't have cooperated so easily the last time around. Might have saved me a lot of frustration." 

He rings off and returns to Emily and the DeSoto. Sliding back into the car, he throws it into gear and takes off, tires squealing.

"You're in luck, bitelet. My sire's a pathetic tosser, but at least something useful's come out of his refusal to eat real food." He reaches over and ruffles her hair. "I'll get you all the steak you can eat."

"Sire?" Emily wrinkled her nose a bit at the ruffling of her hair, but didn't object, more curious about the unfamiliar word - one of several, but the others sounded like nicknames to her, like her teacher's daughter used. "What 'sire'? Why eat not-real food?"

Angel ground his teeth a moment with frustration before setting the phone down, and heading for the door, with only a brief, "I'll be back later." for Cordelia and Doyle. He didn't want to put them in the way, not when it was just Spike.

"Sire's what vampires call the vampire who turned them. Angel turned the vamp what made me, but she's insane, so he stepped in." He isn't sure how much of this she understands, but figures she'll ask for clarification if she doesn't. She's clever and inquisitive, clearly damaged but far from broken by whatever she's gone through.

"He doesn't eat people, like I do. He feels guilty if he does, so instead he just drinks pig's blood." Spike blows out an unnecessary sigh. "He's a stubborn son of a bitch, and he's probably on his way to intercept us as I speak. If he does show up, you stay in the car, all right?" He didn't want Angel to see her.

"Humans prey, why not eat? Prey to eat, die anyway, feed predetor." Emily shook her head. "Silly. What 'insane'?" Not even asking about staying in the car, automatically processing that much like when Koda would leave her in among rocks when she was younger. Protecting her, leaving her where it was safer.

It isn't long before Spike sees the sign for the butcher Angel had mentioned. A glance around the lot reveals the absence of his sire's distinctive car, and he pulls in and parks, turning off the DeSoto and handing Emily the keys.

"You lock up tight now, bitelet. Don't let anyone in but me." He opens the door and gets out, locking it behind himself, then goes around the car and locks hers before turning around and heading into the shop.

Emily clutched the keys, shifting to watch the shop, waiting patiently and still for Spike to come back, not even moving when she saw another car pulling into the lot. Watching the man who got out curiously as he looked over toward the car she was in, holding absolutely still. Hoping he wouldn't see her.

Angel frowned at the sight of the DeSoto, searching it a moment before heading for the door of the shop. If he was lucky, Spike hadn't had a chance to cause trouble yet.

The lack of chaos inside surprised him before he shook it off. Stepping toward the blond vampire, his voice a bark of command to draw attention. "Spike!"

Angel's voice cuts sharply through the murmured conversation Spike had been having with the butcher about cuts of steak, and Spike has to force himself not to wince.

"I'll take three," he tells the man, then turns around to face his sire. "Peaches. Why am I not surprised to see you here?" As always, the sight of the other vampire brings with it a flood of emotion ranging from fury to desire, from nostalgia to dislike. None of it shows on Spike's face, but it requires an effort. "Didn't get enough the last time around, is that it?"

Keeping from just punching Spike is an effort, but possibly worth the effort if he can get a straight answer out of him. "Of what? Your need to cause havoc?" He crossed his arms, giving Spike a long look. "What do you need to buy steak for?"

"Why do you care?" Spike asks, watching the butcher wrap up his order, but careful to keep Angel in his line of sight. The stubborn set to his sire's jaw tells him that Angel isn't going anywhere without answers, though. He heaves a sigh.

"It's going to get eaten, you ponce. What did you think I was going to do with it?"

"I don't know, Spike. What with that thing about your 'good deed' for the century. What, going to feed someone up after snacking on them?" It was about all that crossed his mind at this point, though it made him mentally curse not taking the moment to check the DeSoto to make sure there wasn't anyone in there.

"Please," Spike says scornfully. "As if I bother with my dinner after I'm done with it." He hands the butcher a fifty dollar bill and picks up the wrapped steaks, then starts towards the door -- only to be blocked by Angel's not-insignificant bulk. "Will you get the hell out of my way?" he snaps, not expecting it to work. Predictably, it doesn't. Angel's expression hardens further, until there are shades of Angelus looking out of those dark eyes. Spike forces down a surge of fury and regret. "Move it, Peaches," he repeats.

"Not until you tell me what you're up to." Angel isn't about to move, not until he has answers. And Spike's answer doesn't reassure him - just makes him more convinced there's something here more than he's seen yet.

"Feeding my new pet," Spike says sarcastically. He'd have thrown a punch by now if he weren't holding the Bitelet's dinner, and if he didn't think that he was probably going to need to come back to this shop at some point. Instead, he gives the older vampire his most infuriating smirk. "Wanna come take a look at her?"

He would like nothing more than to put a fist into that smirk, but at the moment, he had two good reasons not to. One was his worry for anything or anyone Spike would call pet, the other that Spike would like the chance to start a fight far too much.

"Fine," he gritted out after a moment, giving Spike a humourless smile. "After you." He wasn't stupid enough to put Spike at his back.

Emily tilted her head slightly as Spike came out ahead of the other man, both heading over toward the car. Her hand tightened around the keys a moment, and she hunkered down into a crouch, not sure what was going on yet. Waiting for someone to do something that gave her a clearer idea on what was happening, and what she should do.

Spike stops a few feet from the DeSoto, having decided that it's probably not best to spring Emily on Angel. He turns to face his sire, carefully wiping any hint of a smile off of his face.

"You'll give me your word not to frighten her, or I'll bloody well see you dust rather than making introductions. That clear?"

Angel crossed his arms again, glaring at Spike. "I'm not going to try to frighten anyone, Spike." Except for Spike, who never seemed to be frightened anymore. Irritating as it was.

"Break your word and I'll make what Marcus did to you feel like a two-week vacation," Spike promises. "Stay here." He crosses the rest of the distance to the DeSoto, and taps on the window.

"Bitelet? It's all right; you can unlock the door now." He looks over his shoulder at Angel, not trusting the older vampire to stay put. "No one's gonna hurt you."

Emily waited a moment longer to unlock the door, slowly opening it, peering out, one arm wrapped around her bear, keeping it firmly tucked against her. "Who?" she asked quietly, pointing at Angel, the claw at the tip catching the light from the street lamps.

Angel hadn't been sure what to expect, but a girl who didn't look like she was older than nine or maybe ten hadn't been high on his mental list. He uncrossed his arms, staring a little before he turned his head a little to glare at Spike, not quite sure what to think. Other than to be glad he was fairly certain Drusilla wasn't actually in town.

"That's Peaches," Spike says. "My sire. Peaches, this is Emily." He rummages in his pockets and fishes out a battered pack of Marlboros. Sticking one in his mouth, he retrieves his Zippo and applies flame to lighter. "Found her downtown about an hour ago. I chased a bunch of fledglings off of her, but she hasn't had it much easier from humans, either." When Angel had been Angelus, he'd reacted...badly to Spike's occasional humanitarian gestures. Spike doesn't expect the same reaction now, but habit makes him lift his chin, square his shoulders, and put himself directly between Angel and Emily.

Emily gave Spike a puzzled look at the name, recognizing the name of a fruit, and wondering why someone had named someone a fruit. She peered from behind him, watching Peaches warily.

"You found her downtown?" Angel was skeptical about that, but didn't push the point beyond the disbelieving question. "What are you going to do with a little girl?"

"I thought I'd start by feedin' her," Spike says, in his most offensive drawl, before turning to Emily and handing her the bag. "Go ahead and get back in the car, bitelet. There's steak in the bag for you; if it's not enough, you tell your Uncle Spike, an' he'll get you some more. Need me to unwrap it for you?"

Emily took the bag carefully so she didn't rip it with her claws, yet. She could smell the meat through the paper, and unconsciously licked her lips in anticipation. "No unwrap." She set her bear carefully in the footwell, hopping onto the seat and settling the bag in her lap. A swipe of her claws shredded the bag, and she carefully worked her way through to the meat, utterly ignoring any of the manners her teacher had been trying to instill as she happily tore into the steaks with sharp teeth.

Angel didn't stare, though he was certain the child wasn't human with the way she ripped into the steaks. Claws and teeth like that weren't the hallmark of any human he'd met... well, perhaps that weird guy he'd run into briefly in Missoula, though he still half thought the guy was part-demon.

He wasn't sure, either, he was willing to let her stay with Spike. There had to be someplace better for her. He just had to get away from Spike long enough to find someone to take her in. Maybe he could talk to Doyle or Cordelia.

"Do you even know how to take care of a kid?" he finally asked, looking back at Spike with a skeptical expression on his face.

"I took care of Drusilla for more than a century," Spike sneers. "I've forgotten more about the subject than you ever knew -- and I've not forgotten anything." He keeps his eyes locked on Angel's, but lets the worst of the sting slip away from his voice. "Besides, she's not exactly a regular human, is she? I can keep her in steaks for now, an' when she gets older, she can hunt for herself."

He takes another drag of his cigarette, glancing over his shoulder to check on Emily. "I don't know her whole story yet, but she's bright, despite the broken English. I got enough out of her to know that someone slaughtered the closest thing she had to a family." The look he shoots at Angel is dagger-sharp, but he doesn't press the point home. Instead he flicks his cigarette away and pulls out another, absently noting that he's getting low. "I'm keepin' her, Angelus," he says, looking back up at his sire, eyes determined and insolent. "And there's fuck-all you can do about it."

The comment about someone killing Emily's family cuts deep, though Angel keeps a stoic face on, not willing to let Spike get under his skin if he can help it. It's tempting to point out that Drusilla is insane, not a child, but he doubts Spike would care about the difference.

"I'm not letting you keep her, Spike." Angel uncrossed his arms, taking a step closer, keeping a careful eye on Spike as he did.

Emily listened to Spike and Angelus, picking up the name Spike used for him, and tensed when the dark vampire spoke. A low, steady growl emerged from her throat, her gaze fixed on Angelus, teeth bared in warning. She didn't want to go anywhere, and wasn't about to let Angelus take her away.

"You're not fucking taking her," Spike says flatly. "You'll have to kill me first." He shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, getting ready for a sudden attack on Angel's part. "I told her I'd take care of her, and that's what I'm bloody well going to do. You don't get to order me around any more. You're not my sire, and I'll do as I please."

Angel slid a hand into his pocket, wrapping his hand around the stake there, though he hesitated to attack immediately. If the child had lost her family, seeing her protector killed wouldn't do her any good, and he didn't want to break her. Tempting as it was to stake Spike, and be done with him.

He left the stake where it was, and moved toward the DeSoto with a purposeful stride. If Spike threw the first punch, he'd fight back, but he wasn't going to start this fight. Even if Spike saw his action as provoking one.

"Close the door, Emily," Spike orders. "Lock it. Now." He's glad he had the foresight to put himself between Angel and the girl, and he steps into the older vampire's path without hesitating. "Back off, Angel." He's at a disadvantage and knows it, but he doesn't care. Aside from the obvious disparity in size, he's pretty sure that Angel has a stake in one of his coat pockets, and that the bastard probably has more than one, while Spike isn't carrying any. "You're not taking her anywhere. I don't fucking trust you with her."

Emily shifted on the seat, drawing her legs in before closing the door with a slam. It took a moment to scrape a patch of glass free enough of the paint that she could watch, muscles tense and coiled to spring as she waited. She didn't want to hide, not right now, but she would listen. At least, for the moment.

Stopping just shy of bowling Spike over, Angel met the younger vampire's gaze steadily. He wasn't about to back down from his certainty that Spike shouldn't be allowed to take care of a child, no matter how well intentioned he might be.

"You're in my way, Spike," he said simply, going to step around Spike. Still avoiding starting the fight.

Spike grabs Angel by the collars of his coat and shirt, wrapping his fist in the cloth and shoving the other vampire five feet back into the light-post. With his cigarette hand, he goes for the stake he knows is in Angel's pocket, snatching it out and throwing it across the parking lot where it vanishes into the shadows. "I don't think so," he snarls. "I'm not gonna repeat myself again, Angelus. Back. Off."

Shaking himself off, Angel starts toward Spike again, leaving the other stake he's carrying in the coat for now. He can always retrieve it if he needs it, but right now he wants simply to get past Spike and get the girl safely out of the DeSoto. Away from Spike.

He throws a punch this time, impacting squarely across Spike's jaw, the blow sending him spinning away. Leaving Angel with an opportunity he doesn't waste, reaching out to open the door of the DeSoto as soon as he gets close enough to do so. The girl had locked, it, but even that wouldn't hold for long.

Emily hissed loudly, shifting to a position from which she could spring if Angelus got the door open. She wasn't going to leave quietly, not going to let him take her.

Spike launches himself at Angel like an American football player. If he weren't a vampire it would never work; as it is, he manages to knock the bastard down just as he reaches for the door handle. They go sprawling onto the pavement, and Spike takes advantage of his position to slam Angel's head into the blacktop a few times. He barely feels his throbbing jaw, the pain buried beneath a wave of crimson fury.

Angel shoves at Spike, and rolls, throwing him off, grimacing at the headache spreading out from where his skull cracked against the pavement. He hadn't expected quite this much resistance, but he kept half his attention on Spike as he went for the door again, wrenching it open with little care for the car, worried only about the girl.

Emily snarled when the door opened, swiping one clawed hand across Angelus's face, launching herself a moment later, claws and teeth at Angelus. She was surprised when he stumbled backward, shoving herself away as he tumbled. Landing on all fours, she spun around to face him again, hissing angrily.

Spike rolls to his feet, scooping Emily up under one arm and yanking his Zippo out of his coat pocket and flicking it open, placing his thumb on the flint.

"Get in reach of me again, and I'll bloody well set you on fire," he promises. "Are you all right, Bitelet? I won't let him take you away from me; I promise." He kept his gaze fixed on Angel as he spoke, but his words were for Emily alone. "Told you I'd take care of you, pet, an' I will." He glared furiously at Angel. "What makes you any better to care for her anyway? I'll keep her fed an' clean an' warm; I'll teach her and care about her, and I'll bloody well defend her till I'm dust. Can you say the same without lying through your teeth?"

Reaching gingerly up to poke at the slices across his face, Angel eyed the lighter in Spike's hand warily. He wasn't going to give up the fight, but at the moment, he certainly didn't have the advantage he'd had earlier. Even counting the second stake he was carrying.

Emily shifted, wrapping her legs around Spike to better balance her weight, her teeth still bared at Angelus. She was growling steadily, clinging to Spike even though instincts screamed to attack, to defend herself and kill the intruder.

"She'd be better off somewhere with a stable home, Spike." Angel shrugged. "Maybe not me, but certainly not you."

"Oh? Where are you planning on finding one that will take her? Or were you just going to give her into foster care? She's a mutant; do you know what humans do to them? What they've already done to her? She's not an ordinary little girl, and treating her like one would be fucking insulting, not to mention stupid. Even you can't be that dumb." He can feel Emily shaking, can smell the fear and despair that's rolling off of her in waves, can hear her little heart hammering away as she wraps herself more tightly around him. The top of her head is just about at chin-height, and he tips his head to the side and briefly rests his cheek there, hugging her to him. He keeps an eye on Angel the whole time.

"I don't know." He hadn't thought that far ahead, yet. If he'd had a bit more warning, he might have had more of a plan, but as it was, his plan was getting Emily away from Spike, and setting Cordelia and Doyle to finding someplace safe for her. And getting her better food than just steak, since he was pretty certain humans, even ones with weird teeth, needed more than meat to be healthy. "I'll find someplace safe. It's not impossible."

"You won't be doing anything of the sort," Spike declares, starting to draw himself up again. Then he sighs, seeming to deflate a little.

"All right," he says. "What'll it take? What do I have to do to get you to back off?" He glances down at Emily. "What do you want to do, Bitelet?"

Emily's glare at Angelus is fierce, hiding fear under bravado and trying to look more dangerous than she is. "Make dust." It's an instinctive reaction, a need to get rid of rival predetors in her territory.

Angel winced at Emily's bald statement, fairly certain of the sentiment behind it. "You don't have to kill me, kid. I'm just trying to help..."

"Hurt Spike. Not help." Emily gave Angelus another dark glare. "Bad. Make dust."

Appealing to her certainly wouldn't change her mind, not at the moment. Angel looked at Spike a long moment before he spoke again. "There's sewer access at my apartment, and no windows. You can stay there."

He wasn't sure how well he'd cope with having Spike underfoot all the time, but it was better than letting him take the girl off unsupervised. He'd just have to explain it to Cordelia and Doyle - something he wasn't exactly looking forward to.

It's been almost seventy-five years since Spike has been this badly surprised, and the swell of emotion that rises in his chest threatens momentarily to drown him: shock, joy, resentment, and other feelings, subtle and nameless, that he can't identify. He's too stunned to keep his expression neutral. His arm tightens momentarily around Emily until he remembers and relaxes his grip before he hurts her. 

"How do I know this isn't some sort of trap?" he demands, and remembers himself enough to strip the emotion from his face as he speaks. "What's to keep you from staking me in my sleep an' disposing of the Bitelet however you please?" But he's already closed the lighter, slipped it back into his pocket. He lifts his now-free hand to Emily's tangled hair, stroking it gently. Have to get her a bath, an' probably a haircut. "You wouldn't share your home with me. It would offend your precious soul."

"You can learn to like pig's blood." Angel shrugs, crossing his arms. "And I'm only offering because of the kid." He won't answer the bit about staking Spike, because the thought has crossed his mind. Except he's pretty sure if he does that, he'll find himself dusted just as soon as Emily can get her hands on a stake and find him.

Spike lifts both eyebrows incredulously. "You can't be serious! I'll swear off innocents, but that's as far as it goes. I'm not living off of _pig_." He puts as much scorn in the last word as he can manage. Without waiting for an answer, he turns his head to look down at Emily, keeping Angel in his peripheral vision. "What d'you say, Bitelet? Want to go live with Grandpa Peaches?"

Emily lifted her head enough to glare at Angel for a long moment. "Don't trust." She wrapped her legs tighter, her claws digging in a little without conscious thought. "Should eat real food. Then stay."

Angel stared at her, wondering just how much he could trust Spike's claim of only having found her half an hour ago after a statement like that. "I can't. Drink from a human, no." He shook his head. "I can't do that."

"Eat real food, then stay," Emily insisted stubbornly.

"So go swipe a few packets of the real stuff from a hospital." Spike rolls his eyes, then looks at Emily. "He doesn't eat people, remember, pet? He's got a soul. It makes him feel bad if he hunts."

"Stupid. Prey die anyway. Hunt, better to feed." She shrugged, ignoring Angel's stare. "Find old, weak, easy to hunt."

Angel decided it would be better not to argue the point with the girl, not when she sounded like she would be more at home out in the hills around LA than on the streets, or in a human home. "How can I trust you not to just take off with her while I'm... acquiring blood that meets her requirements for me to have 'real food'?" He really didn't like it, but if it kept the girl from trying to stake him while he slept, he'd find a way to cope with having a few pints of re-heated human blood.

"Easy," Spike shrugs. "You promise not to stake me; I promise to be here when you get back." At Angel's hard stare, he sighed. "Or we could go back to the apartment and I could order in for you."

Angel nodded, accepting that. He spun away, heading for his car, though he still wasn't entirely certain he could trust Spike to follow. Of course, if he didn't, Angel could always leak his description, that of the car, and the fact he had a kid who wasn't his with him to the cops. That made him smile to himself as he slipped into the driver's side of the car, watching to make sure Spike didn't take off as soon as he had Emily in the DeSoto.

Spike peels out of thelot and heads for Angel's apartment, smirking to himself as Angel hurries to catch them up. He looks over at Emily.

"You sure this is ok, pet? We don't have to stay with Peaches if you'd rather not."

Emily shrugged. "Den better than not. If real food, then stay. No real food, leave. Make Peaches dust." She didn't trust Angel much at all, but if Spike thought it was a good idea, she was willing to at least try. And she could always kill him later if he tried to take her away from Spike.

"I don't really want to dust him," Spike admits. "He's pretty much the only family I've got left." He reaches over and ruffles her hair again. "He was, anyway. Now -- well, I guess he's your family, too, and we don't kill family without a very good reason." He smirks. "Grandpa Peaches," he mutters, half to himself, and chuckles. "I can't believe he just let that one slide." 

The apartment isn't far, and Spike parks the DeSoto around the back, then gets out and goes around the car to get Emily out. "Did you finish your supper, luv?" he asks, opening the door. "Want something more?"

Emily had dropped the remains of the bag and wrappers on the floor earlier, and she carefully picked them up to hand to Spike. "Finish. More later. See den first."

Angel parked next to the DeSoto, catching the bit from Emily about seeing the apartment first as he opened the door. That she called it a den made him wonder about where she'd been before Spike found her on the streets, and what sort of people she'd been with.

"I can have Cordelia call the hospital and arrange some human blood to be delivered." He wasn't about to let Spike or the kid out of his sight at the moment.

"Good enough," Spike says, balling up the bag and tossing it over his shoulder into the street. He bends down and picks Emily up again, and it's only partly because he knows Angel won't try anything while he's holding her. "See if you can't get her to pick up a pair of kiddie pajamas and a toothbrush. Oh, and three more steaks. And some milk. You like milk, Bitelet?" This last to Emily, as they cross the threshold.

"Milk for cubs." Emily made a face. "Not cub, no milk, just meat."

* * *

**Eight years later**

Emily perched on the kitchen counter, settling her plate in her lap before she started to methodically dissect the game hen she'd pulled out of the fridge a couple hours ago, to let it warm to room temperature, at least. "Hey, Spike," she said without even looking up, focused on disarticulating the leg, grinning at the pop as it came out of its socket. "Sun sets in half an hour. And my tutor is late, again."

"I'll bloody well eat him when he does bother to show up," Spike threatens, half-way to meaning it. Eating someone in the kitchen would lead to Angel at his most difficult, and he doesn't want to deal with that nonsense again. He hops up on the counter, lifting an eyebrow and fishing around for his smokes. "Thought about colleges yet?"

"I don't want to go." Emily scowled, digging her claws into the breast of the bird, shredding the flesh. "Humans are annoying. And I have to remember not to kill them, even when they do stupid things like threaten me because I have claws and different teeth and heal really fast."

Spike sighs. It was inevitable that some of Angel's ethics would have rubbed off on the girl. Personally, he sees nothing wrong with killing humans. "College is important, pet," he says, for what feels like the hundredth time. "Angel never went, and look what a git he is." His own time at Oxford had been one of the only happy periods in what had been a miserable mortal life. "I went, and I'm bloody glad I did." He lights a cigarette and inhales deeply. "You can go somewhere in LA, you know. Harvard is not required."

"Don't want to go." Emily dropped the leg back on the plate, setting it aside before crossing her arms mutinously. "Wouldn't last, anyway. They'd expel me the first time I forgot that humans are fragile, and accidentally kill one." Or not so accidentally. She hadn't been expressing a desire not to kill earlier, but more a desire not to end up dealing with police because she didn't react well to threats or nasty remarks.

"Then you can bloody well learn some self control," Spike says, exasperated. "If I can learn it, so can you." It's been a serious struggle, but he has -- largely because Angel in a temper is beyond annoying when one can't escape him. "What do you want to do with your life anyway, pet? Hang around here with me and Peaches? There's a whole brilliant world out there, you know."

"I want to travel." Emily shrugged, hunching her shoulders a bit. "It's easier to ignore humans being idiots when I can get away. I couldn't get away if I go to college. And there's all the stories you tell, and that Angel tells, about the places you've been. I want to see those places. And I don't need to go to college to travel."

"Point," Spike acknowledges. "What if we travel first, and then you go to college? I've been in one place for too bloody long anyway." Eight years, eight sodding years in LA, and while he doesn't regret them, the only other place he's stayed this long was Berlin, before the war started, and that was only because Darla had gotten him involved in some seriously nasty vampiric politics and they'd kept him distracted.

Emily tilted her head a moment, relaxing enough to uncross her arms. "That sounds good." She grinned, reaching for her food again. "And we can leave Peaches behind, yes?" Along with the trouble that kept trying to recruit them or destroy them, simply because they lived in the same space as Angel.

"We can try, pet," Spike says, "but Angel's uncomfortably persistent when he's on one of his moral crusades." He points a finger at her, and decides that he really should re-do his nail polish. "He decided you were one a good bit ago; otherwise we'd have scarpered years before this." He sighs theatrically. "I'm thinking something ate your tutor, luv. He's even later than usual."

"Hmph." Emily scowled. "I liked that tutor. He wasn't scared of me, or you. Well, not more than any intelligent person would be, anyway." He hadn't reeked of fear the way some of her tutors had. "And if we don't tell Peaches..."

"Tell me what?" Angel had heard Emily talking when he came down the stairs, and he stopped in the kitchen doorway as she trailed off, raising his eyebrows.

"My tutor got eaten," Emily said promptly, smiling cheerfully at Angel. "You're wearing too much perfume again," she added, knowing that usually got a rise out of him.

"I'm not wearing perfume." Angel rolled his eyes. "I ran out of shampoo. Cordelia let me borrow hers." Since Cordelia was the closest person to ask, and he'd really wanted to get the slime from last night's demon hunting out of his hair before it turned into glue.

"Smells like perfume," Spike says, grinning, and takes another drag of his cigarette. "Really, Angelus, couldn't you find anyone but the cheerleader to borrow shampoo from? You smell like a French cat-house. If you weren't so concerned about your bloody hair..."

"Next time, you go out and kill the demon, then." Angel rolled his eyes, heading for the fridge for some blood. "Maybe you could convince Gunn to lend you his razor. The demon has slime that hardens into glue. It's how it hunts."

Emily snickered, picking up the drumstick she'd dropped earlier, carefully stripping the flesh from the bone. Amused at the idea of Angel without his hair. "You'd look funny without your hair, Peaches. But you still smell like perfume."

"I only kill demons when I'm bored, Angelus, you know that," Spike says, rolling his eyes and dropping his cigarette into the sink before turning the water on to put it out. "And I never go after the ones with unpleasant bodily fluids. Well. Except for Fyarls. And Chaos Demons." He scowls at his boots.

Angel doesn't respond to that beyond a quiet snort, dumping his blood in a cup, and eyeing the microwave a moment before deciding not to risk doing anything to the machine. It wasn't as if he'd drank his blood warm often in the last half century. "Why are you so sure something ate your tutor, Emily?"

"He's late. Later than usual, anyway." Emily shrugged, continuing to pick apart the bird on her plate. "Which means I'm going to have to deal with Wesley, because it's not the weekend." She scowled. "I liked that tutor. He was cool."

"I'll eat the idiot myself if he does show up this late without a good excuse," Spike says, swiping a piece of food off of Emily's plate and heading towards the cabinet over the stove where he keeps his liquor. "I'm no stickler for being on time, but this is bloody ridiculous. And if I'm going to have to deal with that bloody Watcher, I deserve a snack in recompense." Wesley irritates him, even more than does Cordelia. "You," he adds, pointing at Angel, "can just be glad that I'm not eating Wesley."

"At least Wesley doesn't smell of perfume all the time." Emily gave Angel a bright smile when he shot her a pained look. "Well, he doesn't. Even if Gunn's brand of soap doesn't smell the best on him, either. He should really put his own soap in Gunn's room if he's going to shower in there all the time."

Angel'd tell her he didn't need to hear about his employee's love lives second-hand if he wasn't trying not to tell her that they had love-lives. They didn't need another round of her merrily asking awkward questions just to get a rise out of them. "I told you, it's not perfume."

"Just the cheerleader's shampoo," Spike snorts. "It's not much better, Peaches." He takes a long swallow from the bottle in his hand, and hops back up onto the counter. "So. What's on the agenda for tonight? Dragons to slay, fair maidens to rescue?" He grins. "I'm bored. So long as you're not after anything messy, I might want to come along."

"Just patrols." Since Cordelia hadn't had a vision, and he really didn't want to stay in the hotel with a bored Spike. Or let a bored Spike out of his sight, and out into the city. Angel took a sip of his blood. "Unless something else comes up."

Emily heaved a sigh, wrinkling her nose. "And I'm stuck here with Wesley and homework. Can you find out what ate my tutor, please? And kill it slowly?"

"That sounds like a plan," Spike says approvingly, and takes another drink. "Well, Peaches? Up for playing detective?" It might not prove to be anything, but then, nothing much is better than sitting around in the hotel plotting practical jokes because he's got nothing better to do.

Angel eyes Spike a moment before he grimaces and nods. At least he can write off whoever dies tonight as having earned their death. He's not exactly happy to have Emily's tutor late - or eaten - himself. It means Wesley is busy with Emily instead of research when he needs him, at least until they find a new tutor.

Emily grins at Angel before hopping off the counter, heading into the lobby with her plate of half-shredded chicken. She knows she'll get a disgruntled look from Wesley, and gross Cordelia out, which makes it worth the care she has to take not to get any blood or greasy fingerprints on the books.

Spike is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, practically itching to get out into the city and away from the boredom that's been driving him insane for the past week and a half. Superglue only stretches so far, and he learned early on that it was only a good idea to mess with Angelus' hair if he wanted a knock-down, drag-out fight.

"Come on -- let's *go*, Peaches," he says.

Angel closes his eyes when Emily takes the chicken out into the lobby, but opens them a moment later to glare at Spike. "When I've finished my breakfast." He's tempted to take his time with it, just to irritate Spike, but the chance that the younger vampire will take off on his own isn't one he really wants to take tonight.

A moment later, he sets his mug in the sink, gesturing for Spike to precede him out the door - he wants to keep an eye on the younger vampire, especially when he's this obviously bored.

"Tosser," Spike mutters, but the relief of heading out into the night air, into the city, keeps him from pressing the issue further.

He fishes out a cigarette almost immediately, flicking his lighter and drawing the smoke deep into his lungs.

"Where do we want to start?" he asks

"Trace the ex-tutor's usual route between the hotel and his apartment." It's an obvious place to start, and Angel suspects that Spike's not bothering to think of that simply to annoy him. "If there's no sign of him along there, search his apartment if we can, see if there's anything to say where he's gone." And because trying to get into the man's apartment will give them a clue if he's alive or dead, and if he's still alive, he can always call Gunn to look through things to see if he can find any clues where the tutor might go.

"You're the boss," Spike says, just flippantly enough to make his point. He's not really paying much attention to anything but the night around them, hoping to come across something more interesting than the vampire or minor demon that he suspects did away with Emily's tutor. He's much more interested in a spot of real violence than a pointless hunt across the city that probably won't lead to anything worthwhile.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009. Unedited.


End file.
